


Quentin and the Clock

by rizcriz



Series: tumblr is dying time to get compiling [4]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 07:09:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16949355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizcriz/pseuds/rizcriz
Summary: In which Quentin needs to go back.





	Quentin and the Clock

Alice stares up at him, confuse. “Quentin, what are you doing? You’ve already killed Ember, what’s going to happen will happen. There’s no point trying to stop it.”

Quentin stops moving for just just a fraction of a second, before continuing to pull his shirt on, struggling to get his head through the hole. “I’m not trying to stop it,” He says quietly, rushed, as he reaches for his pants, “I just - I have to.” He stops speaking, shaking his head as he pulls his pants on. “I can’t. Not without…”

“You can’t what?”

He pauses, again, fingers on the button of his jeans, “If there’s no magic,” He murmurs, “The portal … I have to warn them. Or -,” He shakes his head again, clasping the button and running a hand through his hair as he gets up and rushes across the room towards the door.

“Will you be back?”

He looks back at her, mouth dropping open, an array of answers on his tongue that he can’t quite get out, before he just shrugs with a shake of the head, slams open the door and makes a run for the clock.

There’s a man in the distance, dressed like a plumber, and a box in the air that hadn’t been there before, and Quentin’s feet pick up speed as he races across Brakebills south to get to the clock before it’s too late.

He pulls open the door of the clock without hesitation, and stops dead in his tracks.

It’s just a clock.

“No!” He screams, slamming the door shut, “No!” He shoves at the clock, kicks at it, barely noticing the burning pain in his toes at the force of the kick, and hits at it’s front with his fists. “No, no, no, no, no.” He pulls the door open again, “Work!” He screams at it as he slams it shut, and back open again. “No! Fucking work!” He slams it again, his sinus’ burning as tears well up in his eyes. Raking a hand through his hair, he falls forward until his forehead is pressed up against the clocks door.

A small whimper works its way out of his chest, as he grips the sides of the clock as tightly as he can, and bangs his head on the front of the clock with slow, even movements, until his legs give out and he collapses in front of it, his hands limp in his laps and his gaze staring blankly at the carvings on the front of the clock.

Some time later, Alice appears, sits next to him quietly, but he doesn’t say anything.

He just sits and stares at the clock.

 


End file.
